


love is like coffee (burnt, bitter, and best at 3AM)

by sweetpea73



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetpea73/pseuds/sweetpea73
Summary: Prompt #47Title: love is like coffee (burnt, bitter, and best at 3AM)Rating: PG-13Word Count: 14,100Warnings: Alcohol use, language, vomiting, minor bloodSummary: Baekhyun likes getting coffee at 3AM after drinking way too much, letting the dizziness stop as he idles inside a coffee shop. Jongdae is the barista who happens to always be on his shift when a slightly drunk Baekhyun arrives.





	love is like coffee (burnt, bitter, and best at 3AM)

**Author's Note:**

> This was very cute to do! It's baekchen and cuteness.  
> For the prompter - I hope I did you justice! ^^  
> Thank you to the Mods for creating this fest and being pleasant throughout the entire process. I hope everyone enjoys!  
> Song of inspiration: "I Like Me Better" - Lauv

_Butler did not claim that feminism puts the blame on men for having the “binary system” that rules a patriarchal society … DID YOU EVEN FUCKING READ THE PASSAGE JESUS CHRIST YOU MORON –_

Baekhyun pauses, looking at his critique notes on his laptop and finally releases a breath. A moment of reflection passes and he immediately pounds the backspace. Tearing the junior undergraduate a new one did not give him as much satisfaction as he would hope for. 

Baekhyun sighs and reaches for his coffee just inches away from his spot in the library. It’s lukewarm at this point since his attention is fully engage in this barely passing undergraduate paper. He feels for the kid a tiny bit. Gender studies is not the most engaging of the writing courses, but it is nonetheless important. Baekhyun has been in the undergraduate position before too. He partied, he forgot a 10 page paper that was due in 2 days, and he’s most certainly mixed up some feminist ideologies in all-nighter with a killer hangover. Nothing but energy drinks and anxiety fueled him.

But look at him now – a killer graduate student with a Bachelor of the Arts in Gender Studies and Literature and coffee for blood. 

A few mores lines down, and three plagiarized quotes later, Baekhyun is ready to tear his hair out. He gets an email from another student that bails on their tutoring session because they’re “sick” (read: _gonna go get high tonight_ ). Baekhyun groans – there goes his wasted afternoon coming on campus. He’d rather grade papers in the comfort of his apartment where he can roast his students aloud. 

When Baekhyun finally gives up on the juniors paper, he sees a message pop up on his phone. 

_PCY: lets go out tonight~~_

Chanyeol is a good friend, and he’s also the friend that let’s Baekhyun forget that they’re 26 and “adults”. He’s also not broke as hell, unlike Baekhyun who still eats like he’s starving.

Another chime pings on his phone, and Baekhyun squints at the receiver. It’s from his bailed tutoring session, and it’s a money transfer. It reads: _sorry for the late bail – I’ll still pay you though!_

Baekhyun feels his face splitting in two at the new $100 sitting in his bank account and instantly feels a ton better.

_BBH: fuck yeah. Its pay day $$$_

-

“Ugh, I’m fucking gone already, dude.” Baekhyun stumbles onto the bar, leaning his face into the sticky laminated top. “My body is jello. Strawberry jello.”

He feels a hand land on the middle of his back, and he thinks it’s supposed to hurt, but it doesn’t quite hit him yet. There’s probably going to be a bruised on his spine, but he feels so good right now slumped against a hard surface.

“So gross, dude. Strawberry sucks. Be the blue kind,” Chanyeol bubbles with laughter, haughty and loud against the classic karaoke scene on Thursday nights. 

“Blue isn’t a flavor dumbass.”

Chanyeol is pouring him another shot before his eyes and dangles it, and Baekhyun can’t resist. Hungover Baekhyun is going to murder Drunk Baekhyun, but Drunk Baekhyun couldn’t give two shits. Like the sexy Ricky Martin sung horrendously by the two white chicks on stage: _livin’ la vida la loca._

The burn doesn’t hurt any longer. It’s a fleeting feeling anyway, a quick flash of a burn, and then it’s smooth down his throat. His nose is tingling and he rubs it with equally tingly fingers. His cheeks flush suddenly, or maybe they’ve been like that the entire time. Baekhyun knows he isn’t a seasoned pro, but he’s damn near close with his intake only increasing since university.

“So, I’ve got a new idea for an app. It’s gonna be revolutionary …”

Baekhyun doesn’t know how they’ve gotten onto the conversation of Chanyeol’s creatively sporadic technologic babies, but he’s here now. Baekhyun has kindly taken himself off of the hard liquor and sips his lukewarm Bud Lite. 

“You said that about the last one.”

Chanyeol normally exaggerates his emotions, but Drunk Chanyeol takes the cake. He throws his lanky limbs in each direction, spiraling them like he’s falling from the sky – nearly knocking over the bored looking women next to him, and he’s foaming at the mouth. 

“Dog tracker was a brilliant idea with a semi-built foundation, thank you very much.” (Unfortunately, the company couldn’t endorse something that had everyone file their dogs like they were on a special sex offender list for someone else to track.)

“Anyway, this is revolutionary, I’m telling you.” Chanyeol clamps a solid hand on his friends shoulder and Baekhyun nearly tips off his bar stool. “Okay, so you know the jumping dinosaur in Chrome when you’re offline? Think that, but _fucking epic_ –“

“Listen, Chanyeol, buddy, pal, friend, acquaintance.” Baekhyun lists some more, but he can’t actually remember if he’s said them aloud or kept them in his head. Chanyeol looks at him like Baekhyun’s the only thing in the world. It’s only a _little cute_. “I really appreciate your app ideas. I’m sure it’ll sell big. But I don’t need the pitch right now. Tell it to someone who’s going to actually listen.”

Chanyeol looks mildly pissed, which is to say, overtly dramatic about the whole situation. He puffs out some air, “Fine, whatever, spoilsport.”

He turns like a child on his barstool to the bored ladies with their cranberry vodkas extra watered down between their fingers. Chanyeol, the charming man that he is, beams with well intentions. “Hi, ladies! Can I pitch something to you?”

One woman eyes him dangerously and whines, “If it’s a threesome than ‘no thank –“

Chanyeol waves his arms dramatically again, and Baekhyun shoves his beer bottle into his chest to be saved. The goof laughs, “Oh, God no. I’m very gay and happy with my beautiful rich husband.”

It’s not true, whatsoever, Baekhyun thinks. He doesn’t exactly remember, but he’s fairly certain Chanyeol hasn’t had a serious relationship since his high school fling. Chanyeol is just an open kind of guy, so it’s plausible he could be, but he also fangirls over his signed copy of Taylor Swift’s Red album. Being in love with a female celebrity totally makes you ramrod straight.

Baekhyun sips again. On second thought, maybe he is gay. 

He feels eyes on him, the two ladies eyeing him curiously now, and Baekhyun groans. Baekhyun shakes his head, “It’s not me, that’s for sure. Even if I had a million dollars, I wouldn’t marry this homo.”

Chanyeol acts offended, but then easily continues, luring the girls in with his over the top faux-homo impression just to solidify his non-sexual agenda, and Baekhyun groans. This sucks. This night out was supposed to be fun, not a wasted adventure to Chanyeol’s stupid sale pitches. 

Baekhyun closes his tab immediately and heads out the bar without a word. His feet take him down the street to the nearest gas station, a place he’s become familiar with during his drunk exploration days. He stumbles a little on his feet, the alcohol really kicks in once he starts moving. It’s chilly outside, mostly because it’s nearly 3am and it’s fall, but the gas station is just a quick stop over from the loud karaoke bar.

The chime goes off when he enters the station, and Baekhyun has to blink his way through the familiar bright lights and off-white walls. He immediately beelines for the coffee machine in the back corner, his best friend through these rough times. He fills a small cup up with the instant sludge that pours from the spout. It still has grime from the other day, but Baekhyun doesn’t mind. He just needs something to stop the dizziness. 

“Sup.” He bites, and the tenant lazily draws his eyes over.

Baekhyun saunters over to the pay counter, and the tenant sighs with familiarity. Baekhyun squanders over some cash, and the tired worker shakes his head with judging eyes when Baekhyun can barely keep his eyes open. Baekhyun huffs, he doesn’t need the cashiers judgement. He’s an adult, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. So what if he’s drunk in public? 

He sips from the Styrofoam cup and revels in the familiar taste. It’s stale and a bit watery, just like it always is. He leans up against the outside of the station and sips the night away. His drunk state doesn’t fade, but the sludge of coffee helps with the dizziness he always gets when he starts to walk away. It’s a nice fallback. It’s a routine that he cannot break. 

The morning turns him in. He’s left with an empty Styrofoam cup and a hangover waiting to be cured. All he wants to do is hit his head on the pillow and call it a day. 

-

The next weekend turns out to be a disaster too. Baekhyun finds himself being dragged along by Chanyeol yet again for a night out, only to be ditched when Chanyeol finds a big-time investor is in town. Baekhyun is served five watered down Jack and cokes before he turns to the door and flees the scene. It’s horrendous how easily he turns away from the social night life, despite complaining about not having a social life outside of it. He’s nervous around the crowds of people despite appearing talkative and bubbly. He doesn’t know why he clams up after a couple of drinks, but he does. 

Now, he’s running away. He runs back to familiarity, the gas station, where he stumbles in drunkenly. The chime goes off at the door, and Baekhyun blinks at the white lights. He beelines for the back corner, just as he always does, to greet his best friend, the sludge filled coffee machine. He presses his Styrofoam cup to the mouth and presses the button, but nothing happens. His friend has a new fashion choice of its face with simple text. Baekhyun has a stop his body to allow his vision to catch up. He’s dizzy, but he knows that this is important.

It reads: _OUT OF ORDER_

“The hell…?” Baekhyun groans and proceeds to jam the flimsy cup back into the mouth. It does not take. No watery sludge comes out.

“Sir, the coffee machine is broken,” the tenant drones lazily, tired from his graveyard shift. 

“When is it getting fixed?”

The tenant shrugs. “Dunno.”

Baekhyun growls. The one time he needs this, the one time he actually needed to get away, everything goes to shit. He attempts to stamp over to the tenant, but it looks more like flailing when his balance is knocked off. He scrambles at the counter and looks dead in the eye at the two-identical tenants, one a little hazier than the other. Baekhyun doesn’t know which one to scold at, but he squints ferociously. “I need that coffee. So fix it.”

“Don’t know how. I’m just a cashier.” The two tenants fuse together, and Baekhyun is in disbelief. “We’ve got that Starbucks iced stuff.”

“No, no, no nononono,” Baekhyun slurs, and he can actually feel it this time. The bartender must have really wanted Baekhyun to suffer. “Hot coffee.”

“We don’t have any. Sorry,” the tenant apologizes, but he doesn’t sound sincere. Baekhyun squints really hard at his name tag, and he’s honestly proud he can still read while this dizzy.

“Listen.” Baekhyun points and then squints again at the name tag. “- _Jongin_. I’m gonna report you to your manager for horrible customer service. You won’t even give me my coffee. I’m a regular here, you know.”

“Okay, dude, you need to chill. I can’t give you coffee because the _machine is broken_. I’m a cashier, not a miracle worker,” Jongin sighs when Baekhyun slobbers on the counter from being flabbergasted. “But I can call the police for you disturbing the peace. You’re wasted, man.”

“Your moms wasted,” Baekhyun mutters, but apparently a little too loudly, because the tenant is reaching for a phone. Baekhyun’s eyes go wide and he scrambles. “Wa-wait! I’m sorry, so sorry, gas station tenant-dear. I just want my coffee.”

Jongin resigns, putting the phone down. “Fine. The machine is going to be out of order, but there’s a café down a couple more blocks from here if you’re that desperate for hot coffee.”

“Aw, yes yes yes!” 

Baekhyun has the urge to climb over the counter and hug the tenant, but the youngers stern glare and voice rock him. “Don’t touch me.”

Baekhyun scrambles off with drunken apologies on his lips, but a smile that is anything but. The tenant points to the door as Baekhyun waddles away and then screams at him when the grad student confidently walks in the opposite direction. Baekhyun snickers childishly at the mistake and then sets course downtown a couple of blocks. The morning wind nips at Baekhyun’s cheeks as he attempts to spring merrily for coffee – it probably looks like he’s stumbling over himself, and he’s surprised he hasn’t eaten the sidewalk yet.

One foot in front of the other, and somehow he’s made it to the corner stop and waits for the crosswalk. Traffic isn’t too awful, save for the few cars crossing onto the onramp. The night is turning over, not young anymore. It’s grey in between, where no one wants to go home, but they’re too far gone to look socially acceptable. This is Baekhyun’s moment to shine. This is his coffee time, and he has to get it before it’s too late.

With a vigor in his step, Baekhyun floats down until a shop with their lights still on appears. Baekhyun blinks up to the twinkling white lights, and it looks like the pearly gates of heaven. Baekhyun tries to squint at the characters etched into the sign beside the door, but the vodka has him impaired yet again. Baekhyun shrugs and proceeds to plow through the door.

Inside is a beautiful wash of white light, and Baekhyun now swears that he’s actually dead and has entered heaven. He tries to straighten himself out and not act like a belligerent drunk, walking his way towards a little cushioned booth. There’s a buzz of the espresso machine whirling around, a few bits of chatter from the corner, and an aroma of salted butter wafting around. Baekhyun’s mouth waters from the rich, teasing smells. He slips his eyes closed and takes in the warm feelings that float around him. He gently lays his head back on a plush cushion and snuggles into the homely feeling. He has certainly passed on because this is heaven if he ever did smell it.

“Sir.” 

There’s a voice above Baekhyun, deep and flat toned. Baekhyun scrunches his nose at the tone. He’s always expected angels to have a singing tone with little dips and glissando’s, not this monotone, borderline-threatening tone. 

“Sir.” It repeats, but more authoritative. Reminds Baekhyun of his fathers, and oh, if there is a God, don’t _have his father be scolding him for eternity –_

“Come on, Kyungsoo, leave the poor guy alone. Sir, you alright?”

There is a hushed tone that completely breaks from Baekhyun’s train of thought. Another man’s, but beautiful and soft. It whispers gently, fitting well with the warm environment of this comfy heaven. Baekhyun wants to hum alongside this beautiful tone, hang out with this angel, because the first definitely sounds like a stick in the mud.

He’s so tired, he can’t even open his eyes. His eyelids are so heavy. Or, perhaps, the angels would not want to blind the poor human. 

“Sir, go sleep off your hangover somewhere else, or I’ll call the police -”

“ - Or if you’re hurt, we can call an ambulance. Please.”

Oh, dear God no. He’s not in heaven, unless the authorities have transcended from their Earthly bounds. His brain is swirling, and tiredness takes its toll, but one thing remains the same. He needs his coffee.

He attempts to raise his index finger to interject, “Espresso.”

It’s almost comical in the way that there is a sigh of relief that exudes from their mouths, almost like a studio audience reaction. Perhaps the afterlife is a sitcom that revolves around Baekhyun’s miserable existence. Only there will Baekhyun get a reaction to his pitiful attempts at pickup lines. 

He hears the soft call of the angel as a ceramic chime hits close to home, but Baekhyun can’t open his eyes to save his life. He likes where he is. He’s comfortable, resting nicely on clouds just inside heaven’s gates. The smell of the espresso is enough to keep his dizziness from catching up. There’s nothing better than this bliss. He feels high, head light enough to roll around his shoulders lazily. 

“Sir.” There’s a gentle prod at his shoulder. Baekhyun feels a lurch in his stomach, and it’s not good. He can actually blink, waking to the bright lights of heaven and a figure hovering over him. He jolts slightly and blinks until his aware of his surroundings. He is, in fact, not in heaven, despite the earlier claims. He’s in a café, sitting on olive colored cushions with an off-white table. There’s a cute little ceramic cup served on a tiny plate that holds a dark brew. 

However, there is an angel hovering over him. He’s absolutely sure of that.

The angelic figure holds a pleasant smile curled into his cheeks, eyes gentle with tiredness. He holds another identical ceramic cup on a tiny plate, but with a piping hot brew inside.

“Ah, hello there,” the angel chuckles, and it’s a nice thing for Baekhyun to wake up to. Baekhyun instantly closes his dry mouth, and the man gives another laugh. Now that he understands that the waiter was chuckling at his gaping mouth. “I made another espresso since yours got cold.”

Baekhyun blinks at the waiter as he sets down the tiny ceramic cup and tiny plate. Baekhyun tries to sit up, but his body sloshes around drunk still. He groans, but ultimately sits up straight enough to look presentable. He pulls a wad of cash from his wallet, unloading bills after bills to cover for the espresso, until the waiter waves his hands for him to stop.

“Ah, no, sir. You can pay for just one espresso,” the waiter kindly replies, plucking a few of the bills from Baekhyun’s pile. Baekhyun blinks up to find the waiter grinning cheekily. “Wouldn’t want to take advantage of you while you’re like this.”

“You’re an angel,” Baekhyun blurts out stupidly, because his mouth is like a flowing waterfall. He’s not even really that ashamed.

The waiter smiles tightly; it’s forced and not as cute. A fake. “Ah, no, just a barista. Enjoy.”

He walks away, feet quicker than Baekhyun’s eyes, and disappears in the back. Baekhyun huffs, disappointed in his stupid mouth. The espresso, however, never disappoints, so Baekhyun eagerly eyes it. He takes the cup carefully in his hands and sips it lightly. The bitterness cuts right through Baekhyun’s fuzziness, and it relaxes him ten-fold after the initial burst of flavor. It has an amazing bite, a characteristic that can’t be said for the instant coffee sludge at the gas-station. It’s a purity that Baekhyun never indulged himself in when drunk. Sober, he’s gotten plenty of creamy lattes, but this shot takes the winnings. It’s exactly what he needs. It cuts through all the haziness, the dream-state he’s been wandering in, and he can now actually appreciate his real-world surroundings. There’s a warm fulfilling sensation in his chest and a burning sensation on his tongue. It’s too hot, but he wants to flavor.

He’s still a little light headed from the alcohol, but the room finally stops spinning. He looks at his phone with unread texts and emails from undergraduates stuck with essays, but he can’t be bothered. Right now, he’s sobering up in heaven.

-

Baekhyun isn’t one to get his drink on every weekend, but this semester has got him needing an escape. This time, he doesn’t even go to the bar with Chanyeol. He’s snuck off by himself, upper half of his body hunched over the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks. It’s strong, hits him hard and burns his throat. He slowly starts to wince less, and the burn feels normal once he lets it slide. He drinks it way too fast, stumbling when he turns over to look at the crowd.

He’s dizzy watching the weekend disco theme patrons shimmy and slide all around. The lights are nauseating. Baekhyun’s not even fitting the part, dressed in jeans and a plain sweater, with matching sagging graduate student eyes. 

He slams down a shot before closing his tab for the night, yet another night wasted in the bar with no social interaction. He gets tired of people watching, especially when everything becomes a blur within the first hour. He’s tired, lonely, and sick of everything.

He finds his legs stumbling down the block again in need of caffeine. Normally he’d turn into the gas station, but his legs carry him past it and straight down a couple more blocks to the cafés bright lights. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t trip over their mat outside and faceplant into their door. 

He’s in heaven’s gates once again, but this time he’s not as tired. The room is spinning, but he can make out a booth of friends huddled in the corner and a waiter bent over balancing a hot chocolate to the giggling high schooler. 

Baekhyun slips into the first booth, coincidentally the booth he sat in last week and groans when his head tries to catch up to the still motion. His eyes are still on the waiter, and a brilliant grin spreads across his face in recognition. Baekhyun attempts a smile back, but his lips are tingly, and he’s not sure how it translates. He assumes well because the waiter instantly presses the espresso machine and not the phone for the police.

Baekhyun closes his eyes for what feels like a second because his head finally stopped spinning, and then wakes to the familiar barista with a ceramic cup in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. They both clink as they hit the table, ice cubes crinkling inside the glass, and then slide closer to the patron. The barista then slides into the booth across from the grad student, folds his leg over and gets comfortable. Baekhyun’s mouth feels parched all of a sudden, yet he goes for the hot espresso.

“Good morning,” the barista smoothly greets with a small smile. He keeps his hands folded underneath the table and keeps a little chuckle to himself when Baekhyun burns his tongue. Baekhyun goes for the water next, nearly flipping the ceramic cup in his hands to get to it. The barista lets out a small ‘oh’ before scrambling for something in his pocket and tossing it towards Baekhyun’s way. Baekhyun jerks at the objects, eyes still pinpointing its location, and the barista finally lets out a hearty laugh. 

“It’s a straw. I hear they’re pretty harmless.”

“Not where I come from,” Baekhyun attempts a joke, biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing to hard at his own joke. The barista indulges him a little laugh, and Baekhyun is sure it’s just to be nice. Baekhyun breaks the straw open by banging it on the table and then sips the ice cold gift from the angel. Sober Baekhyun knows that water should be the first thing that he drinks, but Drunk Baekhyun thinks it’s a bitch move, and that gets him into trouble.

The ice is a different kind of jolting compared to the espresso. The bitterness wakes him better than the ice, but Baekhyun supposes that it’s because he’s well-acquainted with water and not the friendliness of the espresso (or the barista). It keeps him on his toes.

Baekhyun almost completely forgets that the barista is sitting across from him since he hasn’t said a single word after the straw scare. He looks so soft and harmless sitting across from Baekhyun, especially with his dark fringe across his forehead and small smile. He stares patiently, observing Baekhyun carefully. Nervousness creeps up on Baekhyun, and his drunkenness makes him lash out his insecurity. 

“You like looking at me?” Baekhyun mumbles bravely around his straw, voice low to keep a cool persona. If he were to look back at this moment now, he’d want to punch himself in the face. He’s not like that.

The barista blinks in surprise, chuckles a little, and then settles his folded hands on top of the table. “Oh, no. Don’t get the wrong idea. My boss told me to keep an eye on you. I’m sitting here so he doesn’t call the cops on you for public intoxication.”

Oh. _Oh no._

Baekhyun can feel a bubble of nerves, and that nerves turns into an anger just out of spite. _No, now is not the time to fight, you idiot!_

Baekhyun squints, but he can’t see for shit anyway. “Which one is your boss?”

The barista whispers with a teasing smile, “The scary-looking one in the corner.” 

He nods his head in the direction behind Baekhyun, so he has to turn his full body to get a better look. Baekhyun’s mind is still a little dizzy, and he has to wait the scary scowl on a mans face in the corner to focus. Any fight that Baekhyun had in him casted away shyly and he straightens up quickly. 

There’s a loud chime that makes Baekhyun jump, and the barista eyes something above their booth with a million-watt smile. He’s lifting himself from the table and chirping, “Hello! Take a seat anywhere. I’ll be with you guys.”

Patrons round the corner, and Baekhyun watches them as two business men take a seat at the opposite end of the high schoolers. There’s a tap on Baekhyun’s shoulder and he stares at the fingers that linger on his sweater. 

“Stay here and drink your water,” the barista breathes, and then rushes to their table with a notepad in his hand. Baekhyun pouts when his company leaves, but ultimately heeds his advice when he feels the bosses scary stare on him once again. The nervousness in him gets him through the five minutes that the barista is gone.

Baekhyun starts to sip on his bitter espresso once his water is fully drained. The dizziness is subsiding rather quickly, especially when he’s on edge. He watches the barista at work, bending a little when he scoops out the foam for a cappuccino, or when he dances across the tiles to grab cinnamon. He’s dressed in a black outfit underneath an olive colored apron, and his pale skin glows underneath the bright lights. He’s ethereal-looking when he’s at work, or perhaps that’s Baekhyun’s literature mind just filling in the blanks. Either way, this barista is just waiting to be a muse by the way that he moves.

When the barista finishes up the business mens order, he comes sauntering back to Baekhyun’s table with a pleased smile. He clasps his hands together and chimes like a bell when he notices Baekhyun’s finished water. “Ah, taking my advice now?”

Baekhyun nods, words not carefully formed just yet, and the barista gestures to take it away. He carefully balances the empty glasses and walks toward the back room. There, Baekhyun notices, that he’s no longer underneath the scary-boss-mans stare. Relief washes over him like a waterfall.

It’s when the barista finally returns that Baekhyun has his tongue ready for a verse, “I like your apron. The color is beautiful. Flattering on you.”

The barista pauses mid-sitting down and scrunches his face, “Thank you?”

_Oh no_ , once again, because no one gets literary jokes other than depressed literature majors. It’s a niche thing, no one gets it. And Baekhyun is sorry to the barista-muse that he lashed one out on him that epically failed.

Baekhyun starts to mumble nervously, as he always does when something goes awry. “It’s a haiku. Sorry, I get all Noboru when I’m drunk.”

When the barista tilts his head, Baekhyun knows it’s a lost cause. Noboru is the father of haiku’s, a genius in the literary creation of the beautiful simplistic art form. In fact, he was the reason when Baekhyun wanted to learn Japanese, other than the fact that he wanted to hit on the Japanese transfer student in high school. 

It's when the barista doesn’t respond well, Baekhyun knows his literary jokes are a lost caused. He’s a lost cause. Baekhyun is about explain the history of haikus to the barista when he starts to chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad it’s that and not Edgar Allen Poe.”

_Oh wow._

Baekhyun is in wonder watching his muse coyly smile at this cute input. It’s spot on (not to mention that Baekhyun once was a depressing drunk, and the laugh on the century when he quoted _A Dream Within A Dream_ at the Literary staff holiday party 2 years ago). There’s excitement running through Baekhyun now, a giddy little thing that is probably helped by his loose drunken mind.

The barista notices and shyly laughs, “Sorry, that’s pretty much the extent to my literary puns. You Lit majors got a niche sense of humor.”

“I’m a grad student,” Baekhyun says, and it’s just a correction, not with pride. 

The barista’s eyes grow and he starts to laugh with a little more personality. It’s golden and full, and Baekhyun knows he could write a thousand poems just off the sound alone. His smile is endearing and playful, something Baekhyun wishes could be imprinted on him for life. 

“Even worse.”

-

Baekhyun finds himself walking to the café now, jumping right past the convenience store after a night of drinking. He’s become affixed to the luxurious bitter burn of espresso over the sludge of the gas station. There’s something that he craves now, a hint of the sharp edge of the espresso. The night of drinking only lasts for an hour or so before Baekhyun gets dizzy with booze and craves the bitter cut of the espresso bean pressed by the angelic barista. 

That’s the other thing that keeps him from patrons of the night – that tiny barista with a brilliant smile and soft tone. He quits the small talk at the bar. He’s always been a stranger to picking up people at the bar. No one gets his jokes, no one compliments his accurate ekphratic slurs of nineteenth century artists, and absolutely no one will get into his pants when he spews Butler’s standards of feminism. 

The problem is that Baekhyun can’t remember _anything_. It’s painfully frustrating. He’s too nervous to enter the café sober, so he has to drink himself into oblivion to then crave espresso and not let his nerves wash over him. Drunken bravery has got him through worse, though it’s a bad habit to form.

For the remainder of the semester, Baekhyun enters the café drunk every weekend. He’s a regular now, stumbling into the café, trying his hardest to not trip on their mat. He’s always greeted by the sunny smile, and sat down with a tall glass of water and tiny ceramic cup of espresso. He remembers the dizziness, the cut of the espresso, and a warm feeling in his chest when the barista graces him with a beautiful laugh. Baekhyun chats with the barista until Baekhyun crashes and needs to go home, and then cycle repeats.

Baekhyun doesn’t get to see angry eyes of the boss until later in the month. The barista comes over with the regular, and Baekhyun reaches out to grab the ceramic tiny cup, but he’s overcompensating. The next thing he knows, there’s a crash and pain.

Baekhyun’s eyes can’t adjust until there’s fast approaching feet and angry wide eyes staring at him. There’s heaviness on his wrists and Baekhyun’s dizziness finally ceases. That’s when he sees red mixing with the dark espresso, coagulating together against the broken ceramic pieces scattered on the floor. Baekhyun doesn’t even realize his hands are shaking until he sees flashes of red streaming down his fingertips. 

“Shit. I –“

“Christ, kid,” the angry eyes shoots off with an angry mouth. “Didn’t your mom teach you not to touch broken glass? Hey, don’t touch it, idiot!”

“I’m 26,” Baekhyun mumbles drunkenly, still staring at his bleeding hands. The boss holds Baekhyun’s wrists tight, and all Baekhyun wants to do is break free, but it’s hard in this kneeling position. His head is tilting, drunkenness still apparent despite the accident. There’s not a lot of pain after the initial hits, but Baekhyun knows he’s going to need something when his adrenaline wears off.

Angry eyes look to the barista who comes in with a first aid kit and cleaning supplies with less anger and more worry. 

“Oh God, we’re going to get sued. He hurt himself on a broken cup, and he’s bleeding. He’s going to take all our money, shit.”

“Kyungsoo, just let me get this. I’ll take care of it. You just ring,” the barista commands, and angry eyes finally relents. Baekhyun is relieved slightly to be in the care of the barista with the nice smile. At least he doesn’t yell. “You, please sit. And don’t touch anything.”

Baekhyun nods compliantly and sits as he’s told. He watches the barista swipe the glass away and handle the area cautiously by setting up wet floor signs. He then treats Baekhyun, first with a bottle of alcohol – not the kind that Baekhyun would drink.

“It’s going to sting,” the barista says gently before splashing his hands with rubbing alcohol. Baekhyun bites back his cry, pain shooting right through his drunk state. The barista then carefully checks Baekhyun’s hands for any shards in his hands, but they are clear.

“You’re going to need stitches. Sorry,” the barista pouts as he kneels down and inspects the other hand. Baekhyun wants to laugh.

“I should be the sorry one,” Baekhyun mouths around the words. “I’m sorry for the cup. It just kind of happened –“

“It’s okay, as long as you’re okay.”

The barista beams and it sends Baekhyun floating above the clouds. At this close of a distance, and the clarity from the injury, Baekhyun can make out a little more of the barista. Here, his kind almond eyes twinkle up at Baekhyun, paired with long fluttering lashes. He’s got fair skin, almost clear with just a ling of pimples near the base of his side hair line. He’s really pretty though, if Baekhyun were honest. 

“I’m fine…,” Baekhyun flits his eyes to the barista’s name tag because he doesn’t actually know the barista’s name. He can see the first character, but there’s nothing that he can totally make out. “Jooon …” and then he starts to panic, heart racing suddenly, “oh, fuck. I can’t read. _I’m illiterate -!_ ”

“Hush! Or I’ll have the cops ship you to the hospital,” angry eyes warns with a terrifying tone. Baekhyun shivers in his warning. 

The barista starts to laugh in the midst, and it’s a low gentle tone. “It’s Jongdae.”

Baekhyun blinks. _Oh, that’s his name._

“I’m Baekhyun.”

His mother taught him manners somewhere down the line. He’s proud he can follow at least one thing that she taught him (the other being: don’t run with scissors, get a successful degree, and marry a woman). 

“I know. You’ve introduced yourself every time,” Jongdae says with this very soft smile that sucks Baekhyun right in, despite his embarrassment. 

“…shit, really?”

Jongdae laughs brightly, still holding onto Baekhyun’s shaking hands. “For the past month now, yes.”

Baekhyun groans in his own embarrassment all the way to the Emergency Department in an Uber. There, he vows to remember the barista’s name by typing the characters carefully into his phone via his nose since his both his hands were preoccupied with the traumatic cup incident. 

-

From the cup incident and on, Baekhyun vows to actually start conversing despite his nervous social tendencies. If he’s going to be a patron at the café, he figures that he needs to act like one instead of being a free loading wasted student. He’s not entirely ready to give up on his liquid courage though.

He attempts conversations with the barista, but he cannot for the life of him remember it the next morning. It’s really irritating that he could remember the amount of drinks that he had, but never anything after the initial burning sip of espresso. It gets foggy, glossed over and lost. He hopes that he isn’t embarrassing himself, especially since the barista is very nice to him. 

He decides to drink less and run over to the café once a pleasant buzz hits his body, ease into the relationship – whatever it was. It takes a lot of restraint and a lot of turning down Chanyeol’s drinks of choice to do it, but he does. When he enters the café a lot less drunk, he notices a lot more. He certainly remembers a lot more too. 

Jongdae greets him with a sunny smile and presses the espresso machine already. He glides across the floor to grab water and spins for a paper cup – since no one can trust Baekhyun with anything that could break into pieces. In a minute, Jongdae is waltzing up to him with a killer grin and tiny hips slide into the booth next to him.

Baekhyun instantly sips the espresso, and he feels alive. It’s just what he needs. 

Jongdae and Baekhyun’s pleasant conversation starts. Baekhyun is a little more articulate, still brave in his word choices since he is still on a buzz, and he explains his memory-loss predicament. 

“Well, I’ve got a little solution for you,” Jongdae grins wide, and it looks a little sinister in nature. He takes out his phone from his apron and press onto a video. “Just a highlight reel of some of your better moments.”

Quick little clips of Baekhyun shimmying in the small café or belting out some karaoke go by, and Baekhyun feels nervous all of a sudden. There’s even a clip of him reciting a love poem he made to a classmate in middle school, and then an awkward angle of a conversation that he’s presumably having with Jongdae. There’s tons of videos of conversations, little snippets, and all of them with Baekhyun’s signature blushed face. 

One, in particular, caught Baekhyun’s attention.

_“Why are you a barista? You’re too nice and pretty to stay here.”_ It’s Baekhyun’s signature whine that curls into his eardrums, and he’s already getting second hand embarrassment from himself. 

He hears Jongdae laugh in the background, and Baekhyun thinks it’s his little nervous tick. _“Because I need a job and the economy is tanking and no one wants to retire. Shall I go on, or do you get the gist?”_

Oh, Baekhyun gets it. Apparently Drunk Baekhyun gets it because he pouts cutely on video. _“But you can’t live off of that.”_

_“Neither can you, grad student of literature studies, Mr. Byun Baekhyun.”_

Drunk Baekhyun gasps, and the present-dizzy Baekhyun groans. He’s leaning in close, now his neck taking up the entire screen as he stage whispers, _“How do you know my name?_ (There’s a whisper of “oh geez, not this again” from Jongdae) _What the fuck. Are you the Government? Have you been spying on me through me laptop? I’m sorry if you’ve seen me jack off a lot more recently –“_

_“Holy shit, you like to talk a lot. No filter whatsoever,”_ It’s true, there’s no stopping Drunk Baekhyun’s madness – or regular Baekhyun’s for that matter(when he’s in good company, and Jongdae most certainly is). _“And no, I have not seen your dick. You’re not that kind of drunk.”_

Baekhyun can see Drunk Baekhyun’s stupid smirk, and there’s an odd sensation in his gut. Somehow, he knows what his past was thinking, and it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. _“You want to?”_

_“Uh…”_

_“OH WOW, hold on. Wait. That was forward. Christ, I hate myself.”_ And so does present Baekhyun, because he’s blushing like a school girl. Jongdae is shaking with laughter as he holds the phone though.

_“I’m sure it’s a nice dick, but I’m good for the moment. Plus, I don’t think you want to go to jail for indecent exposure.”_

Drunk Baekhyun sighs and slides down to the table with a pout. The camera angles at him a little weirdly, but there’s still the prominent pout. _“It’s a really nice one….”_

There’s a giant boisterous laugh in the background, presumably from Jongdae. _“I’m sure it is.”_

End scene. Baekhyun wants his Oscar.

“Wow. I’m really sorry.”

Jongdae has a spectacular grin. He shrugs, “You know, the fact that you were sorry about it while you were sloshed really shows that you’re not a giant tool. So, no hard feelings.”

He pulls up another video in the next second, beaming about something. “Oo, this one is good! You actually do a handstand for a split second, it’s awesome!”

That… was not how Baekhyun expected this relationship to go, if he could call it that. It’s an awkward start. Baekhyun feels like he has to pick up all the pieces before he can sort it out. Jongdae is kind enough to help the poor fool, but he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to do anything for the poor drunk man. 

Each weekend gets increasingly better for Baekhyun though. Baekhyun gets the usual espresso, now learning that he doesn’t need to get significantly drunk to still get that high feeling off drunkenness and espresso. He sips it, burning sensation mapped on his tongue permanently, and Jongdae plucks a straw out of his olive apron, bats his long lashes, and smiles radiantly to the grad student. They talk endlessly, until the morning sun peaks out into the windows, and then Baekhyun gets to sleep the rest of his days until another undergrad needs tutoring. 

Baekhyun wishes he had the confidence to not get drunk and go to the café, but the routine is there solely for him. Jongdae admits that he’s entertaining when he’s loose like that, but Baekhyun feels like he doesn’t get the full picture when he’s out of his mind. He doesn’t get to fully appreciate what Jongdae’s different smiles mean, or the gentle little touches he gives. Their relationship is a weird one, and Baekhyun is afraid that his drunk thoughts will counteract his sober shyness and officially make it harder for Baekhyun to look Jongdae in the eye. 

For now, Baekhyun will keep his drunk bashful thoughts to himself and let Jongdae play along this bromance.

-

 

“You’ve proved an excellent point with that new thesis, Cleo, but it feels like you’re stuck in this 3rd wave feminism ride …”

Baekhyun slams down another shot before he can catch the tail end of the conversation, already knowing the answer to it. The poor 1st year graduate student is stammering at the Literature professor, abashed by his proclamations. She’s new, a baby in the department, and hasn’t had the ritual beatdown by the department yet. They will break her soon enough, just like the rest of them.

It’s the Literature Department’s festival party, hosted in the bar with open tabs and 25-cent beers. Hipsters lean casually on the bar, old timer professors scrounge around a table with their ties too short, practically suffocating themselves. Baekhyun is the quiet kid, the one that most professors just quietly acknowledge and say _he’s such a nice kid._

Baekhyun hates coming to these parties. He remembers his first one. He was in the Honors program as an undergrad and had the privilege to tutor other undergrads based on his philosophical breakdown of modern conversationalists on Twitter. The professors adored him like a little baby angel at his first function, and he reveled in a lot of the attention, until the attention felt so pushy. The Gender studies professors offered him work, and young Baekhyun got played hard in their scheme. He was forced into conversations he hated and was forced to work with hot topics. Thinking about feminism 24/7 was absolutely dreadful. 

Now, as a 26-year-old graduate student with a pile of debt and a pile of work, he’s learned that he cannot swim out of this tide that swept him up so easily. He’s stuck here. He has to smile at his coworkers, mind his own mouth for everyone is so critical, and keep his _male thoughts_ to himself. He lives in a world where many women berate him, and he’d rather not reveal his homosexuality just to save himself. They don’t need to know his life.

“So, Baekhyun, I’ve heard the undergrads in Dr. Yoon’s class are having a bit of trouble with the material. Have you given them the introductory plan that Krishna and I made? It worked wonders last year and I just feel …”

Yet another Gender Studies professor merging into Baekhyun’s corner. It’s not that the undergrads can’t handle the material, they just have no motivation to read it. Gender Studies is dry for the most part, especially with the overdone material. Generations to come will slowly lose interest because it doesn’t cater to them any longer.

“I’ll look into it,” Baekhyun shrugs and then downs another unnecessary shot. He’s already plastered and seeking a way out.

The fact of the situation is that he never wanted to step into this door. He never wanted to attend this sham of a department party and get wasted with subpar friends. He wanted to go straight to the café, he wanted to go and sip his espresso. He wanted to see _Jongdae_ and he’d rather do embarrassing shit that he won’t remember in front of the barista than be stuck in front of snobbish professors. It scares him how much he wants to do that; to escape his real life for the equally unsecure life that glows in a pretty twilight of half-remembrance.

His feet carry him to the edge of the bar and he stumbles his way into the chilly night. He doesn’t hear groans of protests or even his name shouted in the background, and that makes Baekhyun even more aware of his sad existence in that field. He doesn’t belong in that field and no one would truly care about him whether he’s there or not. They used his intelligence for their own gain, stripping him away from the Literature field he wanted to be in.

He finally makes his way into the café and onto their mat. His vision is so bad, he winces at the twinkling lights above. He can barely stand, almost as if he’s walked on his legs for the first time.

“Baekhyun? You okay?” Jongdae’s concerned voice rings clear. “You don’t look so good.”

He can feel Jongdae’s hands on him, probably steadying him. Baekhyun’s stomach lurches suddenly, and his heavy breathing does not help the nausea running through him. 

He grunts weakly, “Bathroom..?”

Jongdae presses his hand to Baekhyun’s back and assists him when he drunkenly stumbles forward. He staggers as fast as he can because he can feel the burning bile and betrayal hot in his throat. Jongdae must know too because he’s pushing him along the way with encouraging words. “Almost there. Hold on.”

They make it to a stall and Jongdae faces him in hopefully the right direction of the toilet because Baekhyun can no longer hold it. It comes so fast, probably helped by his quick jostling that turns his stomach. He empties out what feels like a feast and he’s so weak. There’s so much coming out of him; his nose is running and his eyes tear from the acid ripping out of his throat. It hurts, but there’s also relief in it. 

Jongdae’s hand is at the small of his back, carefully rubbing circles into his sweaty dress shirt. It’s warm against his clammy skin and feels nice as it carefully collects the drops of sweat. Between the rushes of nausea and the violent throat tears, Baekhyun finds comfort in Jongdae’s silence and gentle pats. He knows the other is going to judge him from now on and will no longer seem him as he did before, whatever that was. This moment just solidifies the mess that Baekhyun is by nature – a horrible, desperate mess.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun whimpers after hastily grabbing at toilet paper and wiping it across his mouth. His mouth tastes like vile and a fruity chaser. It’s getting so cold here in this silent stall, and Baekhyun quivers on his hands and knees, cheek almost resting on the toilet seat. His arms shake a little, but he catches the rim of the toilet and holds on. “S-Sorry.”

“You’re shaking. Are you cold?” Baekhyun nods, eyes closing because he refuses to see the mess he’s made. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move, okay?”

Baekhyun acknowledges with a hum, tired eyes finally closing. He rests for a little, cheek now rested on the side of the toilet, not a care in the world for hygiene at this point. He did just throw up in the café’s bathroom. Baekhyun sniffles, trying his best to get rid of his runny nose, but there’s no use. He also doesn’t want to smell the mess he made.

“Here,” Jongdae’s voice returns, shoes squeaking in on arrival. He gently pats something onto Baekhyun’s back, wrapping him securely. It locks in the terrible sweatiness that Baekhyun feels, but it also warms him. 

Baekhyun snuggles into it and mumbles, “Thanks.”

“Are you going to be okay in here? I have to go back out to the store, but I can check in on you,” Jongdae asks, a little hesitantly if Baekhyun is sensing the mood right. “I’ll have Kyungsoo come and get you too.”

“I think I’ll be okay. I’ve got my best friend here.” Baekhyun pats the porcelain toilet, and Jongdae snickers at that. 

“I thought I was your best friend?” Jongdae teases with a pat to Baekhyun’s sweaty locks. If Baekhyun wasn’t so sick, he’d probably snuggle into that warm hand. “On second thought, I don’t want to be puked on. I’ll let the toilet win this time.” 

Jongdae makes sure Baekhyun’s doing alright, leaving him a glass of water and promises to come back, and then makes his leave. Baekhyun sighs in the quiet stall. He thinks it’s a little sad that he still would rather be here than that awful Department party.

-

The semester is finally over, and Baekhyun feels like he can finally breathe. He doesn’t celebrate with booze, despite Chanyeol’s constant whining to splurge on another semester done. Baekhyun figures that the past months of going to the bar every weekend were more detrimental to his liver, and another drunk night will push him once again. 

It’s been a couple of weeks since he’s been at the café too. Baekhyun was hesitant to enter the café – mostly because he knew that Jongdae would look at him different. Though, he happened to be scrambling out of being a third wheel to Chanyeol’s Tinder date and his legs led him to the café. It was nearly a week after his toilet incident, and he nearly died on embarrassment when Jongdae teased him by calling him _Barf Boy Baekhyun_ (though he totally admired Jongdae’s alliteration prowess). To Baekhyun’s relief, the early morning ritual resumed, and Baekhyun’s stomach still flipped when Jongdae smiled so fondly at him.

Baekhyun finds himself waking up in his bed at a reasonable time in the morning, and not late morning with his alarm clock blaring angrily at him. There’s a stream of sun streaming through his white blinds, and his entire room is at a nice brightness. He snuggles into his fresh sheets and revels in the freeness until the next semesters plans need to be submitted.

The morning carries Baekhyun in a better mood, and he decides to actually go out and enjoy some time in public that’s away from the university. His heart jumps when the nearest café is the one that’s near the bar, but he wants to anyway. He’s going to live as the Literature student spending the day in the café stereotype. 

It’s brisk outside, and Baekhyun finds it odd to be walking past the run-down bar, gas station, and café sober. It looks so much different in broad daylight. The bar is dingy, and the gas station looks like it was stuck in the 80’s. When Baekhyun picks up his pace, he nearly blows past the café. It looks amazingly different in daylight and sober.

_Casual Tea_ is the name on the sign right above the unlit twinkling lights. There’s pretty flora surrounding the cobblestone outside, and the window spaces are just a little frosted from the cold. He peeks through the large windows and is amazed at the bustling little café in the morning. There’s a lot more patrons inside, many sitting and chatting away before a morning commute. Baekhyun nearly has a person running into them when they rush down the stairs with a tray of coffees in their hands. The frazzled grad student decides that it’s time to get brave and he proceeds in.

The door makes a cute chime when it opens, and Baekhyun is surprised that he’s never heard it before. The aroma from the café also catches him off guard. There’s burnt espresso, warm buttery bakery items, and sugary coating wafting in the air. The sound bounces off the walls, espresso machines screaming, the cash register chiming, conversations on cue as if it’s a musical. There’s several employees standing behind a counter, each dressed in olive aprons and dress shirts that match Jongdae’s, but none of them seem to be him. Baekhyun even cranes his neck to check out the barista, but in turned out to be a girl.

“Sir, excuse me.”

Baekhyun blinks, and he’s suddenly in the way again, this time with two business men waiting to get out. Baekhyun apologizes quietly with his face scalding and takes a step out of the way towards a table in the corner. His usual drunk booth is taken up by an older couple. They’re cute, Baekhyun supposes, but not as cute as him and his tiny barista – _oh no. Bad thoughts!_

He nervously spits out an order for a latte to the cashier who gives a weird smile that’s way too bright for 8am. It comes out a couple minutes later with a decent swirl of color and fluffy pile of foam. Baekhyun takes a gentle sip from it and settles in it’s warmth. The espresso is mildly muted by the milk, and it’s not as smooth as the early morning shots.

Baekhyun sits quietly at his table, trying to block himself away from society and not be a total nuisance. He has his laptop with him and opens it to connect to the café WiFi. There, he searches endlessly on Facebook and gets a few stray emails of undergrads begging for extension dates and extra credit opportunities. Baekhyun sighs, he’s been there before many times.

The atmosphere in the café is totally different, and Baekhyun notices a lot more things sober too. The people here are of a different caliber than at 2am. It’s full of men and women who treat themselves before their commute, and a lot of older people sitting down to a nice routine. The 2am patrons are far and few between. Mostly college kids or late night workshops, and occasionally another drunk. However, as far as Baekhyun has seen and heard, he’s the café’s resident drunk. It’s so weird being here sober.

“You’re here late.”

Baekhyun nearly chokes on his spit when he hears a distinct voice from behind. He cranes his neck around to look up to the expectant boss, Kyungsoo. Although, from this distant and without drunk goggles, the man doesn’t look like a boss, but more like a worker. He’s dressed similarly to the other baristas and cashiers, but his olive green apron is covered in an ashy white powder, and he’s got glasses perched on his nose. He looks kind of dorky, albeit still scary.

“Uh, hi,” Baekhyun blinks, and he nearly squeaks to death when Kyungsoo gives him a scrunched ridiculous stare. “S-sorry for my, uh, previous behavior. You know, _being drunk and all._ ”

Kyungsoo gives him a squint from underneath his glasses, but it slowly warms into a smug little smirk and a laugh that he has to curl inwardly for. “Oh, interesting. You’re a softie. All bark and no bite.”

“Huh?” Baekhyun blinks to make sure he’s not seeing or hearing things. _Did he call me… soft?_

Kyungsoo then shrugs, resting his arms by his side. “Honestly, it makes the shift go by faster. You’re a plethora of entertainment, especially at those awful hours. I think your mouth should run a marathon.”

“Um… thank you?” Baekhyun presses his mouth together, unsure of what to say in the situation. Unfortunately, despite his attempts to be less intoxicated, he’s never truly remembered all the conversations. It eats away at him. He knows he’s probably done something embarrassing, but he hopes to any God that he’s not made a complete fool of himself. “… do you guys serve food here?”

Kyungsoo deadpans, “You don’t remember?”

Baekhyun promptly shakes his head, and nerves prick at him when Kyungsoo gives a disapproving look. It’s scary how fast he can go from cute to frightening in the same minute.

“God damn, do you blackout every time you drink?” Kyungsoo groans. “Yes, we have food. I’m the baker. I think I’ve introduced myself a thousand times, you punk.”

Oh. 

Baekhyun blinks at the flour-covered apron. 

_Ohhhh._

Baekhyun’s stomach begins to growl, and the baker is instantly in tune with it. He makes a small smile and is quick to turn on his heel with a quick _I’ll be right back!_

The baker makes quick work of it because Baekhyun is faced with a plate and a warm buttery croissant before his very eyes. It smells so fresh and buttery, and there’s a crispness to it that Baekhyun absolutely falls in love with. There’s many thanks on his tongue as he gently tears a piece off and plops it into his mouth. It’s exactly as it looks, warm and buttery and flaky, and it practically melts on his tongue.

_Wow, this is literal heaven. How did you even… are you a God???_ Baekhyun wants to say, but his voice chokes up and his nerves are getting the best of him. He sits there like a shy boy, and stammers. Kyungsoo takes a seat across from the grad student and briefly flashes a warm smile. He’s staring intently at the nervous ball that is Baekhyun and is significantly entertained.

“You live two different lives, Baekhyun. You’re quite something, you know?” Kyungsoo bites back a laugh. “You’re so shy now. I guess it’s better than messing with the barista.”

Baekhyun frowns at that. He supposes Kyungsoo means Jongdae, but he isn’t entirely sure about the situation. He quickly makes work of his croissant and latte, and finally feels a little uplifted to talk. The crowd has died down, and the baker still sits across, patiently waiting. He sips some water and cleans his glasses, though he still manages to get flour on the lenses.

“So, Jongdae doesn’t work today?”

Kyungsoo perks and inspects Baekhyun with a keen eye. It makes Baekhyun nervous again, he doesn’t want to be under scrutiny.

“He works the graveyard shift,” Kyungsoo simply states with a sigh, as if it’s been said a thousand times. Now Baekhyun really does feel bad. He really shouldn’t drink that much, especially if he’s feeling some type of way towards Jongdae. He barely can remember anything about the barista. He must be tired of carrying the same conversations over and over.

“Can I give you a little advice?” Kyungsoo says upfront, eyes no longer behind lenses. He looks stern, and Baekhyun feels a little squeamish underneath the stare. “The next time you talk to Jongdae, make sure you’re actually there. Be a little considerate.”

Baekhyun knew that he would have to repay for his drunk antics, despite not knowing fully what he had done. It doesn’t seem like Kyungsoo doesn’t want to explain them again since it apparently fell on deaf ears before. Baekhyun will be left in the dark for eternity it seems.

“We’ve put up with your behavior since it was entertaining, but don’t think for a second I won’t report you. You won’t be our favorite guest if you pull another stunt. Especially on him,” Kyungsoo warns, and Baekhyun feels the burn of shame on his face.

-

“You like him,” Chanyeol gushes, poking at Baekhyun’s cheek when they grab dinner together. Chanyeol’s got a pleasant buzz, and Baekhyun has more than that from the obvious blab about the secret café and barista he just told Chanyeol in confidence. “Oh my God, you’re in love. My baby Baekhyun is _in love_.”

“That’s what you got from that?” Baekhyun groans. He knew he shouldn’t have told Chanyeol about his new sobering spot.

“I haven’t heard you gush about a guy like that since undergrad. It’s so cute. Aww,” Chanyeol laughs loudly, grabbing the attention of some other patrons. Baekhyun wants to die.

“It’s okay, dude. There’s nothing wrong with having a little crush. Hell, if anyone needs love, it’s you,” he says unapologetically and then sips his beer.  
Baekhyun slumps, “Wow, geez. Thanks.”

Chanyeol leans in way too close for comfort. He nearly belches in Baekhyun’s face. “I’m looking out for you, man. You’re a pretty cool guy, and hella attractive too. Like, it goes beyond sexual orientation. This barista guy must be blind if he doesn’t think you’re attractive, alright?” 

“I don’t know whether you’re being my wing man or secretly attracted to me…?”

Chanyeol scoffs, “Oh, God no. You are definitely not my type. You’re shy and nerdy, and borderline alcoholic. Plus, you’re too short for me. But, I bet you’re someone’s type. _Jongdae’s type_.”

Baekhyun groans and slams his head to the table as Chanyeol gushes about his new apps and business partner. “You’re not a very good wing man.”

Chanyeol slams his drink, “Take that back.”

Baekhyun slowly peels his face from the table. It’s a little sticky. “You just dragged me through the mud. I’m shy and nerdy. That’s not anything that anyone wants.” _Definitely not Jongdae._

Though Chanyeol isn’t in the least bit sober, he dawns a look as if he’s figured out the world. He grins, “I’ll show you how good of a wing man I am. Let’s go.”

“Wait –“ Baekhyun blinks as he’s dragged out of the restaurant and into the chilly night. It’s not even midnight, but the city is still fresh and ready. Baekhyun is pulled along the way hastily with whines and excuses on his tongue. Chanyeol guides him to the familiar café, and Baekhyun nearly loses his breath. “No. No no no no. Chanyeol, no –“

“Come on,” Chanyeol grins as he pulls tipsy Baekhyun through the café’s entrance. It’s warm and enticing, especially with his espresso wake up, but it’s all wrong. He shouldn’t mix his circles. It’s wrong. 

Baekhyun doesn’t look for the bright smiled barista, and only struggles against Chanyeol when he wants to sit in a booth. Baekhyun hides his gaze downward as Chanyeol slips them into a booth and familiar footsteps come their way. 

“This isn’t a good idea, you stupid –“

“Welcome!” Jongdae says brightly, flashing his brilliant smile. He then turns to Baekhyun and tilts downward to catch his gaze. Baekhyun can’t help but look. He says a little softer, “Hey Baekhyun. The usual?”

“Yup,” Baekhyun nods up to the barista, not wanting to converse anymore with his twitching friend expecting something outstanding. Jongdae nods comfortably and then turns to Chanyeol, who acts brightly no matter how drunk he is.

“You friends with Baekhyun?” Jongdae asks politely.

“Oh, yeah. He’s the best, honestly. You know he’s got published papers and everything? I mean, they’re nerdy, but they make some cash. I’m Chanyeol – his best mate, by the way,” Chanyeol grins, winking at Baekhyun while the grad student slumps in his booth. His head pounds from the nearby soberness. 

“Ah, is that right?” Jongdae smiles and chuckles along. “So, what can I get you, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol squints around to see a menu and then really starts the acting flow, “Oh, I’m not sure. What’s the sweetest thing on the menu?”

Jongdae hums, “Well, we have sugar lattes, and also a signature hot chocolate with fluffy marshmallows.”

Chanyeol chuckles, batting his eyelashes. Baekhyun’s stomach is tied in knots. “Are you sure it isn’t you?”

Baekhyun feels like he’s going to barf. He looks up to Jongdae, who is stunned with his tongue against his cheek in restraint. This is awkward and awful. _Is this how Jongdae feels when I talk to him?_

“Hot chocolate it is, then,” Jongdae says firmly and then spins directly back to the barista station. Baekhyun wishes he was brave enough to save themselves from the awkwardness, but he isn’t nearly tough enough to do or say anything. And now he’s totally blown it, and Jongdae just saw him act like a coward. He just wants to curl up and die. 

“Why did you do that?” Baekhyun whines.

“Do what?” Chanyeol chirps innocently, and Baekhyun huffs. “I’m just helping you out.”

“By making me look like I have shitty friends? Yeah, thanks.”

Jongdae comes back within the next minute with paper cups of their drink orders. Baekhyun’s simply espresso shot and water look miniscule in comparison to Chanyeol’s mighty hot chocolate, and the app developer gasps at it. 

“Wow, it’s a masterpiece,” Chanyeol exclaims. He dips into it with a spoon and marvels at the sweetness. “Amazing. Truly. You’ve got a gift, Jongdae.”

Jongdae’s smile is tight and his voice isn’t nearly as genuine, “I appreciate that.”

There’s a few bated moments of awkwardness before Jongdae storms back to his station and bids them a goodnight. Baekhyun feels weird being in the café without Jongdae sitting across from him, instead standing quietly while cleaning his station. Now Baekhyun has his loud-mouth drunk friend across from him, and even tipsy Baekhyun feels like Chanyeol is being too much.

“Stop glaring at me like that,” Chanyeol mouth around a marshmallow.

Baekhyun takes down his espresso in one go, the bitterness biting through him cleanly. He feels clearer and even more fired up about the events. He has a fiery pit in his stomach. He needs to do something. He needs to clear his conscience. 

He stands up and staggers away from the booth. Chanyeol whispers, “Where are you going?”

Baekhyun doesn’t respond, eyes set on Jongdae behind the counter. There’s a warm sensation in his gut and his heart pounds hard as he ventures out of his comfort zone. This is it.

He leans against the counter, now face to face with the familiar barista. Jongdae blinks surprised, “Did you need something? Was it bad?”

“No,” Baekhyun says firmly, and then lowers his voice when he sees Chanyeol intently trying to listen. He looks back into Jongdae’s brown eyes. “I wanted to apologize for Chanyeol’s words to you. He’s drunk and being an asshole. It’s not like him to do that. That wasn’t called for.”

Jongdae blinks and then presses his lips together in thought. “Oh. Um… yeah, that’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not my first time being hit on, you know. I learned to brush it off.”

Baekhyun feels a sinking feeling inside him. He’s done it too, he knows it. He feels awful apologizing for Chanyeol when he’s been doing it for months. 

“I’ve never seen you mad like that before, though.”

Jongdae’s expressive eyebrows raise, and then he suddenly starts to laugh. “Oh, heh. I wasn’t mad at that. No, I’ve just been having a rough day. Yeah, no, your friend is safe. Don’t worry.”

Baekhyun presses, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jongdae has his teasing smile that makes Baekhyun excited and nervous at the same time. “I don’t think you’re drunk enough to be my therapist.”

“But I want to. I like you,” Baekhyun breathes, and Jongdae tilts his head kind of cutely. Baekhyun blushes and back pedals immediately, rushing to drunken conclusions. “Ah, not like… not like that. I like talking to you and I just hope that everything is okay.”

After a few more of Baekhyun’s ramblings, Jongdae drops his quizzical look and starts to pat Baekhyun’s arm. He’s got a warm smile on his face, one that makes Baekhyun blush suddenly. “You’ve got no filter, you know that?”

Jongdae then cranes his neck around Baekhyun’s body and almost dies of laughter. “Oh my God, I think Kyungsoo is going to kill him.”

Baekhyun turns to see Chanyeol squeaking into the booth as Kyungsoo gives him a hard stare down. Baekhyun starts to laugh too and feels Jongdae’s hand smooth down his arm. He wishes he could stay here forever.

-

After a night of correcting papers for the end of the semester extensions, Baekhyun finally feels like it’s the right time to leave. It’s almost midnight when he wearily blinks at his phone. He feels like a drink at this point, but Kyungsoo’s threats sunk heavily in him, and he’s afraid to drink and return to the café with more ill intentions. He doesn’t quite know what they possibly could be, but he knows that he’s ticked off Kyungsoo enough to get a final warning. It would be best for him to heed the baker’s advice.

Baekhyun throws on a jacket and lets his tired feet carry him down the blocks of the city. There, in the distance, he can see the twinkling lights of _Casual Tea_ calling to him. The warmness beckons the student in and the bell on the door chimes merrily as he enters. The place is nice and warm, and Baekhyun has to shed his coat. There’s a soundtrack playing quietly in the background with a faint reverberating piano and a brush of a guitar. There’s no other patrons around, all have gone to rest for the evening. But there, restocking the espresso machines beans, stands the cute barista on his tip toes. Baekhyun has his breath held in the moment, too afraid to release it and ruin the atmosphere. 

Jongdae cranes his neck and gives a smile of recognition, one that makes his eyes crinkle. His voice is bright against the calmness of the café, “Be right there!”

Baekhyun feels his heart thump in his chest as he gives a nod and takes a seat at his usual booth. He watches as Jongdae empties the bag into the pour spout and then automatically grinds and presses the filter to catch the perfectly compact grounds. The machines whirrs and they spurts out the bitter shot into a paper cup (ever since the cup incident, he’s been given paper, just for good measure). 

Jongdae then spins again, his body floating across the back counter to a fridge with ice cold water. Baekhyun does remember the way that Jongdae’s body naturally floats across the tiles, as if this is his sanctuary. He’s ethereal here, light as a feather and beyond words. Baekhyun does remember his failed attempts of writing poetry about Jongdae, the message is still lingering in his mind, but the words have long dissipated. The chicken-scratch about his muse has been long thrown away due to it’s unintelligible insights.

As Jongdae approaches, Baekhyun straightens himself out and puts on a pleased smile. Jongdae tilts his head a little before he sits at his spot across from him. He guesses, “Something’s … different?”

“You’re right,” Baekhyun says softly, and then presses the paper cup to his lips. The bitter espresso instantly hits his tongue, burning him, and he gives a slight grimace. Their eyes meet, and Baekhyun knows that weary expression on Jongdae’s face. It’s familiar, somehow. The grad student places the unfinished cup onto the table and gives a strained smile.

“Not feeling espresso today?” Jongdae asks, and Baekhyun can see his smile faltering and a little forced. He never noticed that before. 

Baekhyun bites in bottom lip before popping it out and suggesting, “Maybe a latte? Something sweeter.”

“Okay,” Jongdae agrees and edges the water towards him. The ice clinks together in time with the piano glissando. Jongdae retreats back to the barista station and presses the espresso again. He dances, but it’s stiffer and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Baekhyun doesn’t know why, but it makes him sad.

In the corner of Baekhyun’s eye, he sees Kyungsoo poking his way out of the back. He stops to stare at Baekhyun, and the warning he made echoes in Baekhyun’s mind. He gives the baker a sober wave, and the other nods with compliance. In another second he’s disappeared into the back.

Jongdae comes out with the fluffy latte, and the art is spectacular and effortless on it. The espresso pierces right through the foam in muted tan streaks. Baekhyun can make out the face of a puppy and there’s a tiny patch of foam hearts surrounding the dog. It’s cute and absolutely sweet of the barista to even make something so special.

“Do you like it?” 

Baekhyun coos, “It’s cute. I like it. Should I take a picture?”

Jongdae looks like he’s about to say something, but Baekhyun watches as the words are swallowed in tune with his Adams apple bobbing. Baekhyun wordlessly takes out his phone and captures an image of the foam puppy. He then takes a generous sip of the latte, and it’s pure heaven. It’s sweet and the bitterness of the espresso is masked underneath the hints of vanilla and sprinkle of cinnamon. It’s perfect. It doesn’t burn, it just comforts him.

“Wow,” Baekhyun breathes. He sees Jongdae’s smile spread. “It’s really good.”

“I’m glad,” Jongdae slips into the booth across from him and looks less uneasy. For a moment there, Baekhyun thought the barista was shying away. 

Something clicks, and Jongdae suddenly starts to chuckle. Baekhyun weirdly looks at him, and the barista explains, “You’re sober.”

Baekhyun shies away and cringes at the comment. He chuckles uneasily, “Yup. It was obvious, right?”

“Well, when you came in looking a little more alive than usual, I was surprised,” Jongdae states, eyes still raking over Baekhyun.

“Are you disappointed?”

Jongdae scoffs, “Not at all.”

Baekhyun’s a little confused at this whole situation. Kyungsoo definitely threatened him the last time Baekhyun came in, warning him to not come back drunk – particularly to do with Jongdae. Yet, here Baekhyun is, and Jongdae is surprised at the gesture. Was there a hidden agenda in all this? What was his purpose here?

Jongdae watches Baekhyun intently, chin resting on his folded hands. He takes sips from the water since Baekhyun doesn’t need the ice to sober up. Baekhyun watches the straw get caught between his lips and teeth, and he has a cute curl wrapped around it. Up close with Jongdae, Baekhyun feels drunk. The guy is really nice to look at, and he laughs at Baekhyun’s hesitant jokes. He’s a booster, and quite the charmer. 

Internally, Baekhyun groans. He’s dying to know what the hell his drunk-self did to get this close to Jongdae and how he was so comfortable in front of the cute barista. Baekhyun gets nervous around Jongdae, afraid that he’ll say something stupid, or worse, possibly confess to want more than a bromance. He’s flirted with the idea several times after each killer hangover, but them all seemed too farfetched. Knowing his thirsty ass, he’s probably flirted unabashedly with the cute barista during these past months with a drunken haze. The fact that Jongdae still welcomes him in is a sign, _right?_

“You okay?” Jongdae speaks up and pointedly stares at Baekhyun’s shaking leg. Baekhyun stops the nervous tick and laughs nervously.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… this feels…”

“Awkward?” 

Baekhyun breathes, “Yeah.”

Jongdae leans back, still observing Baekhyun intently. There’s a small smile that fills into his cheeks and he continues to charm Baekhyun with something so simple. “You’re definitely different than when you’re drunk. You’re quieter than I expected.”

Baekhyun laughs sadly, “You thought I was a loud mouth all the time?”

“You definitely acted like it,” Jongdae grins brightly. “Oh, the stories you told. My God…”

Baekhyun feels a blush hit his cheeks fast from embarrassment. “Do I want to know?”

Jongdae talks the rest of the night, reliving the most embarrassing moments Drunk Baekhyun gave within the past months. Reliving them makes Baekhyun cringe, but it also sheds so much light on the situation. He likes this. He feels like he actually has a connection with Jongdae, despite the months long delay.

“You came in sometimes with a poorly scribbled haiku on your hand, and then you would make up some on the spot. It was pretty impressive for being sloshed.”

“I asked about the undergrads you’ve got, and you said that they were good kids despite being ignorant and rich. I asked you if I could make a deal with you, split the money if I taught the kids too, and you were totally in.”

Baekhyun blinks, “Really?”

Jongdae laughs nicely. It sounds like bells. “Well, that was until I told you that I didn’t finish college.”

Baekhyun blinks again, astonished. “You didn’t?”

“Nah,” Jongdae says casually, not hurt by it. “I lost interest. Parents wanted me to be a lawyer, but I could never work like that. I hate convincing people. I’d rather work the rest of my life with a craft than work for some phony degree. No offense.”

“None taken,” Baekhyun calmly reiterates, but he’s not sure if his drunk counterpart agreed. When Jongdae doesn’t look at him wearily, he knows that it was the case.

“You also gushed about another grad student for weeks … I think his name was Sehun? Anyway, you kept on dying of laughter. It was so damn funny, I couldn’t help myself but ask. And you couldn’t stop laughing. In the end, you finally just said that he has a _huge_ nose. You showed me a picture of him, and I said that it looked fine to me. And then you straight up did a spit take at me. You almost pissed yourself, you were laughing so hard.”

Baekhyun turns bright red from that. Oh, Jongdae had to know what it meant. He’s certain the barista knows by the way he smirks. He isn’t sure what Jongdae’s stance on same sex relationships were, but by the way that he openly talked about the incident makes him think that Jongdae is at least tolerant. There may be a chance.

“So, did you end up asking him out, or what?” Jongdae tilts his head curiously, and Baekhyun is at a loss for words.

“Uh,” Baekhyun says very smartly. “Turns out that having a big nose doesn’t mean that it can make up for a lack of personality.”

Jongdae releases, “Ooh. Ouch. What a burn.”

They start laughing together, now both in high spirits. Something about Jongdae makes Baekhyun feel less nervous, especially when they’ve got most of Baekhyun’s embarrassing moments out of the way. They talk endlessly, mostly Baekhyun trying to gather information about Jongdae again. And when Jongdae tells stories, his whole face tells it. He’s so expressive and charming, his eyebrows wildly play and his smile flows like a river when he speaks. It’s almost enchanting. 

They’ve nearly talked for 2 hours when Baekhyun finally relents something he’s held for a while. “I’m sorry if I ever hit on you.”

Jongdae perks an eyebrow. “Why?”

Baekhyun shrugs, still embarrassed. “I don’t know, it’s just that my head wasn’t in the right place, you know? And if you didn’t like it, I wouldn’t remember if you told me to stop. It’s just … it’s awkward.”

Jongdae flicks at Baekhyun’s head, and it shocks him. The other snorts, “Stop that. You think I would let you back in if you kept doing something I didn’t like? Or, rather, Kyungsoo? Come on, Baekhyun. I can handle a little nerdy flirting. It’s pretty endearing coming from you.”

_Oh._

Baekhyun’s heart is beating fast. He’s not sure if he heard Jongdae right, but his thoughts are swirling dangerously at the idea. 

“Sorry, I just don’t remember,” Baekhyun repeats with a mumble. He wants to swallow up into his shirt and disappear. Now he’s unsure if he really did confess to Jongdae or not. The barista knows his preferences, and isn’t totally disgusted by it. He called his flirting endearing too. There’s just so much unknown that’s there, it makes Baekhyun want to scream.

Jongdae sits there with his lip caught between his teeth and he’s still staring at the grad student. “Do you regret the things you have said?”

“I … don’t know. I don’t know what I said... Maybe? God, I don’t know.” The whole situation feels pretty sour now that Baekhyun thinks about it. He wishes he could know how to put things into solid questions, or have the courage to outwardly ask Jongdae the right ones.

Baekhyun pouts, “I wish we could start over. I want to know you better, you know?”

Jongdae breaks out into a nice smile with his cheeks a nice pink. “Sure, we can do that.”

Jongdae stands up from the table, clearing the drinks out. He runs to the back, and Baekhyun finally releases a held breath. He didn’t think the barista would take it so seriously, especially when he comes out with a sunny smile and a pad and pen in his hand. 

“Welcome to _Casual Tea_. My name is Jongdae. What would you like?” He says brightly.

Baekhyun can’t help but laugh a little, and the barista acts concerned. Baekhyun coughs to clear himself of the chuckle and then orders, “Water and a vanilla latte.”

“Sure thing!” He races back to the barista station, floating once again. He comes back with a pretty design, a sunflower, and an ice water.

“May I sit with you?” Jongdae asks politely, and Baekhyun nods. “What’s your name?”

“Baekhyun,” he answers simply, sipping the latte. Once again, it’s made with his heavenly touch. The grad student then leans in, breaking out of the scene. He whispers, “Don’t you feel a little silly doing this?”

“It’s all in good fun,” Jongdae breaks his character too. His eyes are shining with something. He knows something. “Especially for me. I know what’s going to happen in the end, and I can’t wait for you to figure it out.”

Baekhyun thinks that he’s got it figured it out when he smiles down at his phone and sees Jongdae’s newly implemented number with a good night text.

But he really gets it a month later when Baekhyun blubbers his way through a love letter confession. He’s prepared a script and everything only to stumble on the words.

“I find it hard to _espresso_ myself, but I’ll give it a _shot_. From the moment I saw you, I knew you would _roast_ me. You’re out of my league – I’m _weak and bland_ , and you’re _strong and bold_. You’re so suave and _smooth_ , like a caramel latte. You’re beautiful when you twirl and glide across the barista station, as if it’s your home. I’m just a helpless little _bean_ , waiting to be plucked and _pressed_ by you. What I’m trying to say is: I hope I’m _your cup of tea_ , because I love you a _latte_.”

“Jesus, Baekhyun. All you had to say was to you liked me. Damn,” Jongdae laughs as he squeezes the others hand when they walk out to their cars. “Also, hate to burst your bubble, but I knew it for a while.”

“Oh, come on.” Baekhyun gives a brave smile. “At least I figured it out though, right?”

“Yeah, finally,” Jongdae huffs out with a knowing smile before kissing him hard after a movie screening. Baekhyun yelps at the sudden movement, especially when his back hits the brick wall, but then melts into the impromptu make out session. Baekhyun revels in the feeling. There’s passion in their fingertips, heat on their cheeks, and burnt tongues in between. He could probably write a books worth just on this moment alone.


End file.
